wiry, red-haired man, with an unfaltering opinion of
himself, and an iron wrist--by means of a week's practice, he could
ruin any piano. Two ladies were also present. Philadelphia Jensen; of
German-American parentage, was a student of voice-production, under a
Swedish singing master who had lately set musical circles in a ferment,
with his new and extraordinary method: its devotees swore that, in
time, it would display marvellous results; but, in the meantime, the
most advanced pupils were only emitting single notes, and the greater
number stood, every morning, before their respective mirrors, watching
their mouths open and shut, fish-fashion, without producing a sound.
Miss Jensen--she preferred the English pronunciation of the J--was a
large, fleshy woman, with a curled fringe and prominent eyes. Her
future stage-presence was the object of general admiration; it was
whispered that she aimed at Isolde. Loud in voice and manner, she was
fond of proclaiming her views on all kinds of subjects, from
diaphragmatic respiration, through GHOSTS, which was being read by a
bold, advanced few, down to the continental methods of regulating
vice--to the intense embarrassment of those who sat next her at table.
Still another American lady, Miss Martin, was studying with Bendel, the
rival of Schwarz; and as she lived in the same quarter of the town as
Dove and Maurice, the three of them often walked home together. For the
most part, Miss Martin was in a state of tragic despair. With the
frankness of her race, she admitted that she had arrived in Leipzig,
expecting to astonish. In this she had been disappointed; Bendel had
treated her like any other of his pupils; she was still playing Haydn
and Czerny, and saw endless vistas of similar composers "back of
these." Dove laid the whole blame on Bendel's method--which he
denounced with eloquence--and strongly advocated her becoming a pupil
of Schwarz. He himself undertook to arrange matters, and, in what
seemed an incredibly short time, the change was effected. For a little,
things went better; Schwarz was reported to have said that she had
talent, great talent, and that he would make something of her; but
soon, she was complaining anew: if there were any difference between
Czerny and Bertini, Haydn and Dussek, some one might "slick up" and
tell her what it was. Off the subject of her own gifts, she was a
lively, affable girl, with china-blue eyes, pale flaxen hair, and
coal-black eyebrow